Patientia Sit Virtus
by MaryRoyale
Summary: Dorea Black struggles to live up to her family's expectations. Charlus Potter is drawn to the pretty Slytherin, despite her family's Dark associations. Vignettes of Dorea's time at Hogwarts submitted for The Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition- Round 8 (All About Blacks). Could be considered a companion piece to Roundabout Destiny. Dorea Black/Charlus Potter.


**The Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition- Round 8**

**Team:** Falmouth Falcons

**Author: **MaryRoyale

**Position:** Beater #2

**Prompts Used:** Rare and Sleepless Nights

**Title:** Patientia Sit Virtus (Patience is a virtue)

**Official Disclaimer**: The original characters of this story are the property of the J.K. Rowling. No infringement of pre-existing copyright is intended. It is my contention that this work of fan fiction is fair use under copyright law. No monies were received for receipt of this work.

**Pairing:** Dorea Black/Charlus Potter (romantic)  
**Rating:** T  
**Word Count:** approx. 3100

**A/N:** Now I love JKR as much as the next fan, but she's absolutely wretched with maths (as she herself has admitted more than once). Therefore we have the tortured Black family tree where Pollux Black married Irma Crabbe (or at least fathered children with her) when he was thirteen. (Cygnus turned right around and married/fathered children with Druella Rosier at thirteen as well.) We also have the non-existent Potter family tree where Harry's relatives are completely unknown beyond his parents. The only way we even know of Charlus Potter is because he's listed _on_ the Black family tree. There is some speculation (among fans) that Dorea Black and Charlus Potter would make excellent candidates as James Potter's parents because they fit the criteria that JKR laid out: they are listed as having one son when Dorea was roughly forty years old.

This story is set in the 1930s. Please keep in mind that at that time wearing make-up was something that most women didn't do, let alone girls (in the Muggle world). The concept of young men and women going on unchaperoned dates was a new thing and many Muggle parents were uncomfortable with the idea. Many things that we take for granted i.e. the personal freedoms allowed to minor children be they male or female would have been considered bizarre for a normal young lady or gentleman of British society in that time period. Wizarding society is portrayed as insular and archaic in certain respects. Interestingly enough, British society of the time would most likely have been similar. Both were moving out of a time when arranged marriages were completely normal, and into a time when people married whom they wished. Therefore, I would have considered it specious at best to disregard the timeframe in which this story is supposed to have occurred.

Finally, for those of you who have read and loved _Roundabout Destiny_, consider this a companion piece.

* * *

_Platform 9 3/4_

_September 1, 1931_

"And remember," Cassiopeia hissed. "Don't mention you-know-who to _anyone_."

"I know, Cassiopeia," Dorea retorted with a roll of her eyes. "I'm not _stupid_."

"I never said that I thought you were stupid," Cassiopeia said loftily. She straightened her green and silver tie and adjusted her shiny Prefect's badge. Cassiopeia had changed into her school robes almost immediately-the better to display her symbols of power. "Now find an empty compartment and for Merlin's sake try not to sit with any filthy mudbloods."

"Mother says that is a vulgar word and ladies oughtn't use it," Dorea muttered.

Cassiopeia pinched her viciously and Dorea bit back a whimper; it was only the undisciplined and the ill-bred that betrayed their emotions in public, and Dorea Black was anything but ill-bred or undisciplined. Cassiopeia marched off with a determined air toward the Prefect's compartment and Dorea moved in the opposite direction looking for an empty compartment for the ride to Hogwarts. With a sigh, she pulled out _How to Crush One's Enemies_ and began reading Chapter 5-Patience Is A Virtue.

"I beg your pardon, but may I sit here?"

Dorea looked up from her book to see a handsome older boy standing in the doorway to her compartment. He was tall with messy black hair and warm hazel eyes. He was wearing crisp black wizarding robes so she felt fairly confident that he wasn't a 'filthy mudblood'. Her eyes strayed to his throat and there was a pang in her stomach when she realized that his crimson and gold tie meant that she wouldn't be seeing much of him. Dorea could feel her cheeks turning pink when she realized that she'd been staring at the boy, and she gave a small nod of her head before hiding behind her book. She could hear the rustle of his robes as he moved to sit down across from her. There was a soft snort of amusement and she peeked over her book at him again.

"Planning on crushing many?" He asked with a nod to her book.

She shrugged. "Not especially," she replied honestly.

"Then why read it?" He asked with a frown.

"Required reading," she replied quietly.

"What class is that?" He asked with a skeptical look at her book.

With a snap, Dorea closed her book and set it on the seat next to her. "Dark Arts," she admitted reluctantly. She knew was the likely response would be from someone wearing _that_ tie.

He snorted again. "What… are you a Black or something?" The sarcasm was heavy in his voice.

Dorea suddenly found the view utterly fascinating and she knew that her cheeks had turned pink again. What was it about this boy that broke through all of her carefully crafted control?

"Merlin's beard, you _are_ a Black, aren't you," he muttered. He sighed. "I should have known."

Dorea looked away from the view to face knowing hazel eyes. She felt her chin tip up defensively, which made it look as though she were looking down at him despite the fact that he was taller than she was.

"Cassiopeia will be checking on me once the Prefect's meeting is over. Just so you know," Dorea said in a cool little voice.

"Right," the boy muttered. "I think I'll escape while I can."

* * *

_Hogwarts Library_

_November 30, 1931_

"So, Dorea, how's Marius?" Hyacinth Selwyn, a third-year Slytherin who was convinced of her own superiority, asked in a particularly catty voice.

Almost against his will, Charlus turned his head and watched the little first-year Slytherin's eyes narrow on the older girl's face. Despite the fact that Dorea was a Black and seemed just as hot for the Dark Arts as the rest of her family, there was something about the girl. She was a pretty little thing and it was easy to see that she would grow up to be a beautiful woman. Charlus wasn't sure who this Marius was… maybe a boyfriend? It seemed to be the sort of thing that Selwyn would tease someone about in the library.

"Who?" Dorea asked in a cold, remote voice.

An unwilling shiver went down Charlus' spine. As a Potter, Charlus didn't have a whole lot of experience with any Dark families, but even he could see that the Selwyn girl was in over her head. No one messed with the Blacks and came away unscathed. Somehow, the Selwyn girl had crossed some sort of invisible line that Charlus couldn't see.

"You know… Marius," Selwyn pressed with a little smirk on her face.

"I don't know what you're talking about." Dorea's voice had become even colder and her facial expression had become distant.

"Surely you remember Marius, your squib brother," Selwyn announced in a triumphant voice and the girls sitting near her tittered nervously.

"I have no brother named Marius," Dorea's voice was now positively glacial and the cold, forbidding look that she leveled at the Selwyn girl did not bode well for her future.

Later, Charlus passed by an alcove and he heard muffled weeping. He stood outside the alcove for several minutes and then sighed. He moved into the alcove and stopped in surprise. The little Black girl, Dorea, was turned away from him and she was crying into a handkerchief.

"I beg your pardon," he said softly.

Dorea jumped and turned to look at him with red-rimmed eyes. "What do you want Potter?"

"I could hear you and I wanted to be certain that you were well," he said with stiff formality.

"Thank you for your concern," she said coolly, "but there's not much that you can do."

"The Slytherin girl earlier, Selwyn, she's a nasty piece of business," Charlus said carefully.

Dorea tossed her hair and glared at him with flashing eyes. "_She_ will never hold that kind of power over me." She looked away from him and took a shuddering breath. "My brother…," her voice trailed off and she bit her lip.

"I'm sorry," Charlus offered quietly.

He had been an only child, but one of his aunts was a squib. The girl had been hustled off quietly to a Muggle boarding school and she hadn't been seen since she was eleven years old. It was a sad business, but what could you do? The poor things couldn't really take part in wizarding society when so much of it depended on using magic. His mother said it was kinder to help them find their place in the Muggle world. He put an awkward hand on Dorea's shoulder and patted it carefully.

"Dorea!" Cassiopeia's ringing voice sounded in the hall. "I know you're here."

Dorea's eyes widened and she stared up at Charlus in horror. "She can't find me with _you_," she whispered before she grabbed Charlus and shoved him into the back of the alcove.

Charlus bit back a cry of pain when Dorea accidentally stepped on his foot with her heeled boots. He could hear Cassiopeia's strident tones and Dorea's softer, conciliatory voice in response. Apparently, he was going to be stuck in this alcove for a little while. Charlus knelt down to massage his foot when he noticed something on the floor of the alcove. A square of white silk lay crumpled on the ground next to his shoe. Delicate silver and green threads picked out a border. He took the handkerchief and tucked it into the pocket of his robes. He would return it later.

* * *

_Great Hall, Hogwarts_

_September 2, 1935_

"Black's all grown up," Josiah MacMillan muttered to Charlus at breakfast.

Charlus glanced over at the Slytherin table to see Dorea Black walk in with a group of her friends and sit down. Josiah was right; Dorea _had_ grown up. The fifth-year had her hair up off of her face in some sort of elegant hair-do similar to the sort his mother favored, but Dorea looked _nothing_ like his mother. Charlus couldn't be certain, but she suspected that she might be wearing make-up. It may have been subtle, but Charlus was fairly certain that Dorea's lips couldn't possibly be that shade, nor her lashes that long and dark. It was a good thing that Cassiopeia had already graduated because Dorea's elder sister had little patience with Muggle fads such as make-up, and she would have most likely had a fit that her sister was 'painted like a whore'. Charlus had overheard the older girl dressing down Hyacinth Selwyn with those exact words for wearing make-up and the Slytherin prefect had even docked the younger girl points.

"She's probably hoping to catch the eye of the new Potions Master," muttered Horatio Dagworth-Granger with a roll of his eyes.

"What, Digby?" Charlus demanded incredulously and risked a glance up at the faculty's table. He noticed with dismay that Dorea was indeed sneaking peeks at the slender-looking figure sitting between Professor Dumbledore and Headmaster Dippet.

"It's _Professor_ Digby, Char," Josiah hissed.

"Listen to me, Josiah MacMillan, just because you're Head Boy doesn't give you leave to be an unbelievable git," Charlus hissed back. Then he frowned at his friend. "And don't call me Char."

"Actually, I do believe being Head Boy _does_ give MacMillan leave to be an incredible git. I think it may be part of the job description," Dagworth-Granger murmured with a smirk.

As a seventh-year and as a Gryffindor, Charlus had very little occasion to cross paths with Dorea Black. There were a few extra-curricular clubs such as the Gobstones Club, but Charlus hadn't joined any of them previously. The strange looks he received when he strode in the Potions Club room were therefore understandable.

"Lost are you, Potter?" Dorea asked archly.

If one did not know any better, Dorea appeared to be the perfect little Black: her robes were impeccable, her tie tied just so, not a hair out of place, her prefect's badge in prominent display. However, Charlus did know better. Dorea Black was just as passionate and fiery-tempered as her relatives, but there was something else that lurked beneath the façade she normally wore-something rare that Charlus very much wanted to experience for himself. She watched him with veiled curiosity.

Charlus smiled tightly and nodded at the other students in the room. "Not at all, Black," he replied.

Just then Professor Digby entered the room and Dorea turned all of her attention to him. Professor Yaxley had retired at the end of last year and his retirement hadn't come a moment too soon. Professor Yaxley had gotten to the point where he could barely remember who or where he was and he had had seventh-years acting as teaching aides. Still, as Charlus watched Professor Digby lean forward with an earnest expression on his face and Dorea look back up at him with her grey eyes wide, an enraptured expression on her face he couldn't help but long for the doddering old fool.

Among purebloods there weren't any specific hard and fast rules about marrying, except that the chosen intended _be_ a pureblood. There were betrothals, but the idea of a standing betrothal contract between the Potter and Black families was almost laughable. In addition, purebloods hadn't caught on to the current Muggle fashion of going on dates; witches of good families were not allowed to swan about in public with unattached men without at least one chaperone present. Pureblood courtship rituals were ancient, and the general consensus was that a wizard of good breeding did not court a younger witch until she was of age, and Charlus had tried to respect that.

The Black family was still reeling from the scandal surrounding Pollux Black and his chosen bride Irma Crabbe so Charlus had tried to follow all of the unspoken rules scrupulously; he had wanted to give his potential parents-in-law no excuses for dismissing his suit out of hand. Now it appeared as though all of his patience was for nothing.

* * *

_An unused classroom, Hogwarts_

_March 25, 1936_

Men were a complete and utter mystery. Dorea had done everything she could think of for five long years-five years spent tossing and turning during sleepless nights, and she may as well not have bothered. Her best friend Lavinia Nott thought the whole thing was a pointless exercise if Charlus Potter didn't even return her affections. Dorea had used an extremely painful boils hex on Lavinia in return. They currently weren't speaking to one another, which was why Dorea was moping about in dusty, unused classrooms.

Witches of good breeding did not throw themselves at unattached wizards. It was unseemly and ill-done of a young witch to comport herself in such a lewd manner, and if her family ever heard that Dorea had done so she would never see the light of day again. The whole situation with Pollux had been embarrassing for the Black family, but not nearly as embarrassing and humiliating as it had been for the Crabbe family. To prevent such a thing they would seal her in her rooms at home and have a house elf bring her food. She took a deep breath and pressed her palms to her closed eyes. She couldn't cry. She wouldn't give anyone the satisfaction.

"I beg your pardon, I had no idea anyone was using this room," said a voice that was heart-achingly familiar.

Dorea whirled in surprise and lost her footing. She gave a small cry and threw a hand out to steady herself. Before she could come close to hitting the ground, Charlus had a hold of her elbow and was steadying her. She looked up into his warm hazel eyes and her heart beat faster.

"Potter." She acknowledged him with a gracious nod and then allowed her lips to curve into a polite smile. "Thank you."

His fingers tightened on her arms and she stared at him. He frowned darkly at her and let her go-almost shoving her away from him. Dorea stamped down the bereft feeling in her chest.

"What's going on with you and Digby?" Charlus demanded in a rough voice.

Dorea's heart soared in her chest, but she refused to allow any emotion to show on her face. "Professor Digby? And me? I'm afraid you're mistaken, Potter."

He snorted at her. "You've been making eyes at the man all year. Don't think I haven't heard about last Thursday when he accidentally added the wrong ingredient to a potion and blew up the classroom."

"How on earth could that be my fault?" Dorea blinked at him in confusion.

"Everyone says that you were trying to adjust your stockings when it happened," Charlus growled at her.

"Why does that concern you, Potter?" Dorea asked with a pointed look at him.

"Because."

_Merlin save me from wizards_. "Because _why_?" Dorea pressed.

"I…," Charlus paused and looked at Dorea with a pained expression.

"Charlus Potter," Dorea snapped and put her hands on her hips. "If there's something you need to say to me, for Merlin's sake, _say it_."

Now Charlus appeared to be warring within himself. The tips of his ears turned pink and he took one of Dorea's hands in his. His palms were slightly damp, but Dorea ignored that.

"You're not seventeen yet," he muttered.

"_Oh_," Dorea breathed and her eyes widened. She clutched Charlus' hands in hers, squeezing them so tightly that he winced. She relaxed her grip, but still held his hands in hers. "Oh, Charlus."

"Will you… do you think your parents would accept my suit?" He asked uncertainly.

"Why wouldn't they?" Dorea asked in surprise.

"Well, the Potters are all Light," Charlus muttered.

"They're also one of the most ancient families around," Dorea pointed out. "Your line goes all the way back to the Peverells. That's not something to sneeze at-even if you are a Black."

"I guess so," Charlus muttered.

"Have your father write to mine," Dorea said firmly.

* * *

_Great Hall, Hogwarts_

_May 2, 1936_

When the owls flew in with the morning post Dorea spotted her family's great black owl, Machiavelli, almost immediately. An unknown owl followed Machiavelli and landed gracefully next to him on the Slytherin table. Dorea's fingers fumbled so badly that Lavinia finally took pity on her and untied the thick vellum note that was embossed with her father's green wax seal. She broke the seal and opened the letter with shaking hands.

_Daughter,_

_I have accepted Charlus Potter's suit for you. You will be wed upon your graduation from Hogwarts. Your mother will write to you soon with more details. _

_Your father, _

_Cygnus Black II_

The other owl held out its leg impatiently and Dorea untied the small package with a small furrow between her brows. Brown paper crackled as she unwrapped a sleek box. The lid moved easily on silent hinges and Dorea's breath caught in her throat. Nestled in black velvet was ancient bracelet that she knew was a Potter heirloom handed down from the Peverell family. Large cabochon emeralds and diamonds set in white gold formed each link. It was a nod to the Black family's long association with Slytherin House.

"I beg your pardon, but you look as though you might need assistance with that." Charlus' voice sounded deeper and rougher than normal.

Dorea whipped her head up to stare at Charlus. His normally warm hazel eyes seemed to smolder at her and she felt her cheeks flush.

"May I?" He asked nodding his head toward the box in her hands.

"Please," she whispered.

Charlus' fingers were certain and sure as he snapped the bracelet in place around her wrist. The cool metal was a comforting presence against her skin. _Finally_. Charlus held her hand in his before his fingers tightened around hers and he lifted her hand to his lips. The brush of his lips against her skin was a scorching heat that made her cheeks flush even darker. Shocked gasps and excited whispers spread through the Great Hall in waves.

"Mr. Potter, if you would please return to your House's table?" Headmaster Dippet's voice was dry, but he had a slight smile.

"Of course, sir," Charlus said and bowed slightly in the Headmaster's direction.

"And Mr. Potter?"

"Yes sir?" Charlus straightened and held himself perfectly straight.

"Congratulations. To you and to Miss Black."

"Thank you, sir," Charlus replied with a grin.


End file.
